


I could never be a soldier (so I won't make you stand so tall)

by iwillwalk500miles



Series: a tale of two siblings [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Running Away, Sister-Sister Relationship, Sisters, Winter Schnee needs a hug, and also glasses don't @ me, some spoilers for the new volume, they different like supes diferente, winter needs to get her eyes checked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillwalk500miles/pseuds/iwillwalk500miles
Summary: “Well you don’t have to worry.” Weiss explained, something flashing across her face. “I intend to return to Atlas only after I have proven myself.”Proven herself, she had said. To prove herself.Winter had resonated with this at the time—had thought she understood where Weiss had wanted to go with this. But now, as she looked back on the times her sister embraced her freedom, there was something in the way that Weiss moved and spoke—something in the way she presented herself, something that was so fundamentally different then Winter was. She’d chalked it up to their varying personalities, Weiss was a bit more free spirited than Winter after all, she was a bit more hard headed and a little more desperate. But Winter had never thought about the differing traits between them, she’d only assumed Weiss would either grow out of them or refine them enough to make them beneficial to her.But now, leaving Whitley’s room—seeing Weiss wait for her with a peculiar expression on her face, she fears that she never knew her little sister at all.Or;Winter and Weiss are different. It takes some time for Winter to accept this.
Relationships: Weiss Schnee & Winter Schnee
Series: a tale of two siblings [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642753
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119





	I could never be a soldier (so I won't make you stand so tall)

**Author's Note:**

> am i projecting onto both of them? maybe a little bit, anyway both of them make mistakes this chapter!! weiss, though the most well adjusted by far, is still _weiss_ ya know what i mean?
> 
> title from 'if he likes it let him do it' by the drums. an alternate title was "you (don't) want to be like your big sis" which would have been inspired from the song 'big sis' by sales, but I decided that the current title fit what i was going for a little better

Winter was sure that she would regret never doting on Weiss forevermore. She knew, of course, that her little sister loved her—that she held her dear, that Weiss had made a home for Winter in her heart. But Winter knew, then, that she would always regret it—her distance, the way she’d raised the bar higher than it needed to be, the way she pushed Weiss into a position she should never have been in. (A position that Winter knew was selfish of her, that haunted her sometimes.)

Weiss was different. 

Whitley had insisted he knew her better.

And Winter feared that he may have been right. 

When they were young, Weiss and Winter would spend time together. It was never much time, never enough for her darling little sister (and if she was being honest it was never enough for Winter either) but it was cherished nonetheless. They would do things, sometimes with Whitley trailing behind, they would go out into the garden and play hide and seek (until Winter got too old to play) and before Weiss turned ten they would go to their mother and ask about their grandfather and his adventures.

They learned of Nicholas Schnee, of his glyphs and the monsters he fought, they learned of him and how he’d created a world for himself, for his descendants and friends and family. They learned of Nicholas Schnee, and they learned they both wanted to be just like him. Only, Winter grew out of that childish sentiment. Her father polluted the name Schnee, polluted everything that her grandfather had stood for, and Winter decided that maybe family and bravery and monsters simply wasn’t for her. 

And so came her enrollment in Atlas Academy, and so came her white knight (a sword) riding a brilliant and beautiful steed (her semblance). 

Her father was so angry that day. His rage seemed to seep out of his body like an ugly black mist, and Winter was ashamed to admit that she’d never feared someone so much in that moment. And she is also ashamed to admit that Weiss and Whitley hadn’t crossed her mind, that as she held her sword close to her chest and breathed into it’s handle—the airship taking her to the academy—the thoughts of her siblings possible suffering was nowhere near her mind. All she remembered from those moments of first freedom was how _thankful_ she had been, how happy she had been to finally be away from that manor. 

(It didn’t occur to her until sometime later that Weiss and Whitley may have been in pain, she hadn’t realized that she’d given her father one less target.)

But she was free, she didn’t have to be a _Schnee_ anymore, didn’t have to have that cursed snowflake on the arms of her Atlas Uniform. The only time she was reminded of that name was when it was called by her teachers, by the military personel, when she used her semblance—and even then she had turned it into something entirely her own. She'd become Winter, the top student who was so very talented and only just _happened_ to have her last name be Schnee.

Weiss was different.

She hadn’t noticed it at first, hadn’t seen it. 

But Weiss was different.

And it was in the way that Weiss would fight back against their father in the strangest of ways, the way that Weiss would dote upon Whitley more than anyone else, in the way that when she said her name, it was proudly—her chest out and shoulders straight. It was in the way that Weiss had not an ounce of shame in her features when presented that snowflake, in the way that she had not faltered in her belief that she was doing the right thing.

(But Winter didn’t know what Weiss thought the ‘ _right thing_ ’ was, and she was sure that would haunt her, just like everything else did.)

Winter didn’t know Weiss at all.

She found that though her problems always seemed to come from lack of understanding, even though she’d gotten used to the burn in the back of her eyes from seeing things incorrectly—there was something about this revelation that made her _ache_ in such a way she had never done before. Because she was sure that if there was one person in this world that she could rely on it was Weiss, and even if that was still true it didn’t change the fact that she had no idea who her little sister was, didn’t know what motivated her. Winter didn’t know the person she loved most in the world. (And that terrified her more than their father _ever_ had.)

Winter had fled the Schnee manor, she had fled the burdens of her name, had welcomed the disinheritance with a fervor, she had allowed her sister to bear the title—had allowed Weiss, a girl at the time, to become what Winter feared herself to be.

But it was worse somehow, because Weiss was still _Weiss_ , she still adored apple pie and dogs and Old Atlesian literature, she still loved the people around her with more of her soul then she should have, she still looked at Winter like she was worth being cared for.

What was it that Whitley had told her? That if Weiss had actually _wanted_ to follow in Winter’s footsteps she _never_ would have attended Beacon? Winter was still utterly perplexed, still misunderstanding and not seeing the things that were right in front of her. Still misplacing the puzzle pieces, still not putting it together. 

But she would, she’d figure it out eventually, she swore that to herself—to all the gods that may or may not have existed, she swore that she’d figure out everything she needed to. Her oath was soul binding, imprinted on her aura for those who knew what to look for. She wanted love, wanted to know how to give and receive it, she wanted to be there for her siblings, wanted to understand how she was supposed to show them that she cared.

(Even if for a time she had been desperately trying to convince herself that she didn’t.)

“Weiss.” She had begun once. “Why did you choose Beacon over Atlas?” 

It was on her visit with the general to the academy, and the two of them were practicing Weiss’ summoning. So far she hadn’t made much progress, but she had improved remarkably when it came to concentrating on the task at hand, an achievement Winter had been very proud of her for. Winter had admittedly been very curious about her sister’s answer, was it because she wanted a change of scenery? Did she believe that Beacon was better than Atlas? Did she want to strike out as Winter had? To make a name for herself outside of her family?

Winter had eventually settled on the last one. Of _course_ Weiss wouldn’t choose Atlas if she wanted to make a name for herself—Winter was there, after all, and there was already _one_ Specialist Schnee, perhaps Weiss had not seen any reason to have two. Winter had felt proud, at that. She had been happy that her sister was choosing to identify herself outside her family, that Weiss was determined to blaze her own trail—one that had nothing to do with the Schnee name and entirely to do with the person walking the path.

(Winter had been wrong, she just hadn’t known that yet.)

“It never was a choice.”

Her sister’s words had only cemented the assessment Winter now knew was wrong.

“Oh?” She’d asked, eager to understand exactly what Weiss was trying to say. Winter had always wanted to understand her sister, but just because that had been a desire of hers for most of her life didn’t mean she was ever any good at it.

“This was the one place that would set me on my path.” Weiss explained, pausing from her training to look at her. Weiss smiled, the big too bright smile that she always gave when Winter asked her things about herself, as though she had been worth knowing.

“And what path is that?” Winter asked, thinking that she already knew.

“I want to be a huntress.” There was steel in her eyes as she said this, a resolve so full of determination and sheer stubbornness that Winter had nearly done a double take. 

How determined was her sister exactly, to carve a path from stone with her bare hands?

“Well I know _that_ , I only meant to ask what you plan after you graduate, will you return to Atlas or join it’s military? Will you spend some time here still, and work for Beacon? Or will you go somewhere else entirely? I only wish to know what you have planned for yourself.” Winter hoped that eventually she would join the Atlas military, but knew that Weiss probably wouldn’t any time soon.

“And why is that?” Weiss asked, a strange thing in her voice and posture. “Is it not enough that I am here, moving forward?”

“Of course not.” Winter was surprised that Weiss would even ask. “It’s _always_ good to have a plan for the future, little sister.”

“Well you don’t have to worry.” Weiss explained, something flashing across her face. “I intend to return to Atlas only after I have proven myself.”

Proven herself, she had said. To prove herself.

Winter had resonated with this at the time—had thought she understood where Weiss had wanted to go with this. But now, as she looked back on the times her sister embraced her freedom, there was something in the way that Weiss moved and spoke—something in the way she presented herself, something that was so fundamentally _different_ then Winter was. She’d chalked it up to their varying personalities, Weiss was a bit more free spirited than Winter after all, she was a bit more hard headed and a little more desperate. But Winter had never thought about the differing traits between them, she’d only assumed Weiss would either grow out of them or refine them enough to make them beneficial to her.

But now, leaving Whitley’s room—seeing Weiss wait for her with a peculiar expression on her face, she fears that she never knew her little sister at all.

(A tragic thought, so depressing that Winter feared for her control—that she’d slip up in front of her father and General Ironwood. And she couldn’t lose her grip on herself, Atlas couldn’t afford that, couldn’t afford for her to second guess herself.)

“Did it go well?” Weiss asked, a curious expression on her face.

“As though you weren’t eavesdropping.” Winter rolled her eyes, straightening her shoulders and moving to join her sister.

Weiss visibly pouted. “Only for a second or two, I had to make sure you didn’t rip into each other.”

Winter examined her for a moment, before nodding. “It went as well as it possibly could.”

“Did you make him angry?” Her sister stared for a moment, eyes glinting with something that Winter couldn’t quite make out.

“No.” She let out a soft shuddering breath. “I don’t believe so.”

“Well that’s good!” Weiss beamed, though after a moment she smoothed down her expression a little so that only a small smile was on her face.

“Yes.” Winter said after a moment. “It is.”

The two fall in next to each other, walking back down the stairs and where the rest of the guests were. Winter wants to ask if she got what she came up here for, if she managed to get evidence of their father doing wrong—but the only question that comes to mind is _why did she go to Beacon_? Though Winter had always prided herself on self-control, though she’d always understood that though emotions were important you should never let them control you, though she had been training not to fall victim to her personal desires for years—she can’t help herself.

“Weiss, may I ask you a personal question?” The question slipped out of her mouth easier than she would have liked. 

“Of course.” Weiss answered immediately, looking at Winter from the corner of her eye and smiling invitingly. 

“Why did you choose to attend Beacon Academy?” She asked quietly, hoping to get a straight answer and be done with the emotional turmoil that had been turning her inside out. 

Weiss looked at her curiously. “I thought you knew.”

“I…” Winter thought so as well. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“That’s a first, oh my big sister—all knowing and all powerful.” Weiss grinned, the expression alien in the halls of the Schnee Manor. “I’m willing to bet that it’s killing you, on the inside.”

“Just a little.” Winter admitted a tad gruffly, turning her face away to hide the annoyance that was beginning to grow.

Weiss laughed, as though she knew exactly what Winter was doing and why she was doing it, and the trickle of fondness that spread from her heart throughout her body throbbed uncomfortably in Winter’s chest. She loved her little sister, she decided, she loved her despite not understanding. Winter knew that if she could love Weiss without knowing her, without comprehending her motivations, then she could do near anything.

(Like love her little brother the same way.)

“I’d love to tell you why, Winter.” Weiss interrupted her thoughts. “But you’ll excuse me if I ask why you wish to know that information.”

“Whitley pointed something out to me.” Winter admitted, shrugging her shoulders. They had finally made it to the grand staircase, the both of them walking down them slower than usual.

“He’s good at that…” Weiss admitted with a fond smile, before a look of worry passed through her features. “He didn’t press too much, did he?”

“No, surprisingly not.”

“That’s nice, I know that you and Whitley don’t always get on so well.” Weiss said with a sigh of relief, her gloved hand running down the banister as they moved back to the ground floor.

“I believe that if I try things may get better.” Winter revealed quietly. “I’m very much willing to try.”

“Wonderful!” Weiss crowed, though her excitement was a tad subdued now that they were in public. “Perhaps we could do a weekly brunch together, discuss over tea how terrible of a person Father is.”

“That…” Winter grimaced. “That sounds pleasant.”

“Judging from the look on your face it seems as though you’d rather die.” Weiss pointed out with a badly hidden smile.

“Talking makes me uneasy.” Winter pointed out.

“Well, I _knew_ that, but it’s more in this case.” Weiss’ expression did a _thing_ , a quirk of her lips and eyebrows, and Winter didn’t know what that meant. “You don’t quite trust our brother yet, do you?”

“I… I’d like to.” She admitted quietly.

“I know, Winter.” Weiss spoke soothingly. “I don’t blame you.”

“What?” All she felt was surprise in that moment, because Weiss had been so protective of Whitley, so _loving_. So how could she not blame Winter for not trusting him?

“Whitley’s in a precarious position right now, make no mistake.” Weiss explained, her voice hushed and secretive. “If Father threatens him he _will_ throw one of us under the bus—though he will be careful to make sure that the consequences aren’t too harsh… only, since we’re both gone I assume that means Whitley is free to blame us completely in front of Father, isn’t he?” Her tone had gone lighter as she thought about it, another curious expression on her face.

“I… I think I understand what you’re saying.” Winter said, because she was sure that she _did_. Whitley wanted to survive, he fawned over their father with his words and if he threw them under the bus it would be fine because Winter and Weiss were _safe_ from the hand of their father. Whitley wasn’t.

“That’s good!” Weiss grinned, a triumphant expression on her face. “If you can understand me you can understand Whitley… We’re quite similar, I’ll have you know.”

“I didn’t know that.” Winter admitted quietly, ignoring the small pang in her chest at the words. Winter used to think that _they_ were similar. “I suppose that you _are_ both slimy little shits.”

Weiss laughed loudly in surprise. “ _Excuse you_ , I’m what you’d call an usurper, Whitley on the other hand is an heir.”

“Going to steal the fortune out from under him, Weiss? I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“It’s not Whitley who I’m going to steal from.” Her little sister winked.

Winter smiled, a little fond, before realizing something. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, I didn’t, didn’t I?” Weiss asked airly, a mischievous smirk curving her lips upward.

“Will you answer me?” Winter asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms behind her back, doing her best not to appear as affected by her sister as she was.

“Oh I’d love to.” 

“But will you?” Winter felt herself frown.

“There you go, dear sister! Reading between the lines, that means you’re learning.” Weiss had the audacity to wink again.

“You… you really are similar to him, our brother.” Winter admitted, a swooping in her stomach. She had barely begun to understand Whitley’s actions, and Weiss was _similar_ to him? “However, I did notice that you are _far_ more playful.” 

“See it now?” Weiss smiled.

“You both tend to speak in riddles.” Winter sighed, turning her chin away. They’d finally reached the last step in the staircase, and Weiss’ friends were beginning to take notice of them across the hall.

“Mhmm, it was… we picked it up over the years.” Weiss explained, her tone somber and quiet. “It was the only way we could actually speak to each other.”

And Winter understood, suddenly. With their father monitoring them constantly, listening to every little thing they said—it was no wonder that Weiss and Whitley had learned to talk in circles.

“May I get a reason as to why?” Winter asked after a quiet moment. “Why you won’t answer my question, I mean?”

“Perhaps… after tonight.” Weiss turned away, but Winter could still see her eyes beginning to dim.

“After tonight?”

“I don’t believe you’re in a position to receive information that could possibly hurt you, I do know how hard maintaining an unaffected presence in front of Father is, you know. I won’t have you lose, you’d never be able to forgive yourself.”

“No, no I wouldn’t.” Winter looked down at her boots, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in her throat. Weiss understood her, but… she didn’t understand Weiss. It hurt, in more ways than one—she felt as though she’d been crushed, melted down into some sorry blob of emotion and bone and blood.

“I love you, Winter.” Weiss reminded her quietly. “Make no mistake—my words now do not reflect on the adoration I hold for you.”

“I love you too, Weiss.” Winter told her just as Weiss’ team had made it to them. 

As they began to pester Weiss and see if she was okay, Winter turned away, shooting a glance around the room. She had to remember that they loved each other in these trying times, and had to remember that they cared—it would do no good to forget the fondness in each other’s hearts.

(Even if Winter felt a pang of regret each time she said she loved her.)

* * *

Weiss Schnee knew that things tended to come full circle. It was the karma in everything, she supposed. Those who did bad would receive bad, and those who did good would receive good. So it made sense that her Jacques Schnee would be sent to prison, it made sense that Whitley would finally be set free from the shackles that the man who had the audacity to call himself a father would be ruthlessly torn down. 

That is why it did not make sense, she knew, for Winter to be torn down as well.

“Winter.” Weiss tried, “I—”

“Arrested Father.” Winter supplied, not quite looking at her. “I know.” 

Weiss doesn’t know why the way she says these words makes her pause, doesn’t know why she suddenly understands that Winter doesn’t want to talk about it. But she relies on that voice warning her in the back of her mind anyway, going silent and waiting patiently for Winter to continue on her own terms.

“I’m proud of you, Weiss.” Winter said after a moment, clutching her hands to her chest and finally looking up at her. There was nothing but earnestness on her sister's face, and the wave of relief that crashed against Weiss’ soul was ungodly.

“I… thank you, sister.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Winter still looked stunned—still looked like she couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. (And if Weiss was being honest _she_ could barely come to terms with the fact that she’d managed to arrest their father either.)

“I don’t know what to do now.” She admitted quietly, making Weiss’ eyes slowly widen.

“We move forward, we make our lives for ourselves, we continue to live.” The words that came out of her mouth were meant to reassure her older sister, but they came out differently—stronger then she had meant them to.

“He’s _gone_.” Winter said in disbelief.

“And he will be for a long time.” Weiss added, moving forward to stand next to her sister, close enough so Winter could touch her if she wanted.

“You did this.” The awe in her voice was something else. Winter grabbed Weiss’ hand, holding it close and smiling weakly. 

“...Mother did this, actually.” Weiss admitted quietly, swallowing a little when she realized that maybe mentioning her would burst Winter’s bubble. “I only used what she gave me.”

“Mother?” Winter asked, Weiss’ hand slipping from her grip.

“Yes.” Weiss affirmed, not quite being able to stomach the look of pure astonishment on her sister’s face.

“I don’t understand—if Mother had evidence then why didn’t she turn him in?” Winter wrenched herself away from Weiss, starting to pace back and forth in the hallway. “Why didn’t she come to one of us _sooner_ —”

“Winter.” Weiss interrupted hastily. 

“What?” Winter asked, freezing and facing Weiss with a look on her face that could’ve made angels weep.

Weiss forced herself to relax, she had to explain this to her sister, had to tell her why exactly she suspected their mother to wait. “What would you have done, if she had come to you with those tapes?”

“Turn them over to the General.” Winter responded without hesitation, making Weiss wince. “I would make sure that they were followed up, and try to convince General Ironwood to take the proper actions so that Father would be thrown into prison.”

“Exactly.” Weiss said. “You would’ve given them to the military, where as I did what?”

“You—oh.” Winter went silent. “You arrested him right away, with no chance of intervention.”

“Winter.” Weiss took a deep breath, trying to figure out a way to break it to her that she didn’t exactly _trust_ the Atlesian Military. “I could _never_ be a soldier.”

It makes Winter go still, her jaw and shoulders lock up. Weiss wanted to comfort her, wanted to make sure that she was alright, but knew that she shouldn’t move forward—that she would not be met with softness. 

Weiss Schnee could never actually become a soldier, and those who truly knew her would never ask it of her. Weiss Schnee could never take orders without question, without an explanation whether it was at that moment or later—she could never fall in line with someone who didn’t trust her inexplicably, never believe in someone who dismissed her ideas or who didn’t actually _see_ her. Weiss Schnee simply could not Do That.

That was what made the difference between them, she supposed, the fact that Winter had been so very eager to become something that didn’t really think for itself, that she had been alright with surrendering some part of her free will. 

(That Winter welcomed obedience, while Weiss welcomed the opposite.)

“You asked me earlier, why I chose Beacon over Atlas.” Weiss spoke very gently, hoping not to spook her sister into leaving, running away from the information that would change her perspective on things for a good long while. “Do you still wish to know?”

“Desperately.” Winter responded without missing a beat, “Because there was something more ideal to you for mother than me, and I do not _understand_ that.”

“I’m not like you, Winter.” Weiss said after a moment, stomping down any bitterness or sadness that made itself known. This wasn’t the time to get lost in herself, she had to make sure that her sister could comprehend the people in front of her, that she wouldn’t make another mistake. (She owed it to herself, at least, to make sure that Winter could actually _see_ her.)

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t choose to become a huntress to _run_ from Father.”

Let it be known that it was the first time that Weiss had referred to Winter joining the military as _‘running’_ to her face. This was the first time that those emotions, awfulness and sadness and age old unresolved loneliness, had been allowed to run rampant. Weiss had gotten better, but only slightly, she was still _Weiss_ after all—still that isolated little girl who hungered so deeply for something she never knew the name of. She’s still that little girl who allowed bitterness and anger to fill the void left behind in her soul.

(And though she loved her older sister desperately, endlessly, she’d never gotten the chance to wonder if maybe Winter had been doing something wrong. It took Yang, of all people, to cement the fact that perhaps an older sister wasn’t supposed to be like an instructor or tutor.)

It was quiet again, the silence settling over both of them like a shroud, as though it was the heavy burden of the sky—thrust upon to _monumentally_ different sisters.

“Then… why?” Winter asked, visibly squaring her shoulders.

“Our name, _Schnee_ —haven’t you seen the way people react to it?” Weiss straightened her posture, if there was one thing she would always be passionate about it was this. The reclamation of her name was what kept her going, what kept the fire burning deep inside of her never to blow out. “ _Disgust_ and _anger_ and _fear_ —it wasn’t always like that, and as long as I live it will never be like that again. I held onto my title of heiress until father took it away because I knew that I had to _change_ things, to bring honor to our name once again.”

“Our name?” Winter’s voice wobbled slightly.

“ _Yes_. I’m going to return glory to our name, I’m going to make sure our father will fester in that prison, knowing that the person he assumed he could control had put him there, I’m going to make sure he watches the way I undo everything he wrought upon our family legacy.” Her words dripped with determination, with the heat of a thousand suns—and Weiss could tell that Winter did not doubt the ultimate resolve in her voice.

“You’re so angry.” Winter whispered, like a revelation. “You’re so… _defiant_.”

“I’m the usurper, _remember_?” Weiss nearly snarled. “No one was doing anything, not _really_ , and I was never going to allow myself to be complacent with a father who cared little for _anything_ but power.”

“That’s why you went to Beacon.” Winter said quietly. “To prepare yourself for _this_ , to get _rid_ of him.”

“It _was_ part of the plan.” Weiss admitted, looking away. “I only expected that it would happen _much_ later down the line.” Something in her stomach churned, she hadn’t meant to snap back at Winter, hadn’t meant to blame her for something that happened such a long time ago.

And that was the difference, both sisters knew. That one was willing to do anything to fight back, and the other was willing to do anything to get away.

“I…” Winter closed her eyes, and for a moment Weiss could’ve swore she’d seen tears. “We are not the same, we are not similar.”

“No.” Weiss agreed quietly. “We aren’t the same person—but make no mistake, we do have similar experiences, similar lives and know that this does _not_ affect how highly I hold you in my heart, I will always care for you… Even if we are not as similar as you would wish.”

“Well.” Winter smiled, the tiniest bit bitter. “I suppose it’s high time I finally saw that.” She looked down at her, and the curve of her lips became something a little more genuine. 

“Good.” Weiss looked away. “That’s good.”

“Hey, Weiss?” Winter asked after a moment.

“Yes?”

“You do know that no matter how much you change, no matter how different you are, you will never stop being someone I adore—don’t you?”

Weiss closed her eyes. “I do now.”

“Good.” Winter said softly, “Because I wish to give you a hug and do not quite know the proper etiquette for giving one.”

That, Weiss thought, was quite possibly the equally saddest and funniest thing she'd ever heard her sister say.

**Author's Note:**

> i'd just like to say for a moment that i don't believe in the comparison of trauma and 'who hurt the most' i believe in the fact that all of us need help sometimes and it's important to learn to accept it. that being said I also believe that sometimes you have to look past your pain and see the things around you, to understand how it affects the people close to you, and the way that you react to trauma is valid until the point you begin to actively harm others; something that all the schneeblings are learning or have learned
> 
> on a less serious note, weiss reminded me a little of prince zuko..... she has a scar on her face and wants to bring honor to her family...... i think i have a type lmao


End file.
